heroes and lovers after dark
by mad not sad
Summary: You forget how to breathe, then, as you look up at this golden, perfect boy, who stares too long at you during Charms class, who always saves you when McGonagall asks you a question you don't know, who lost a Quidditch match the day he caught you snogging Charlie Cornfoot, who says "You're a bitch" but sounds almost like he's saying "I love you" every time. James/Lily


**heroes and lovers after dark**

I said it's been a long time

Since someone looked at me that way

It's like you knew me

And all the things I couldn't say

_- Together, The xx_

..

"We should split up here so we can be more efficient," the Head Girl informs you. "All right if I take the lower floors and the dungeons, and you can have the upper?"

You nod, because even though you know Vivica only wants the lower floors since the DADA office is on the second floor and she's shagging the professor, you like her well enough. "All right."

"Great, Lily, thanks," grins Vivica. "Later!" Her fingers wave once, then she's gone.

You have no intention of actually doing your rounds tonight either, so you trudge over to the staircase and make for Gryffindor Tower. You've just passed the statue of Lachlan the Lanky and are rounding the turn in the corridor when you hear hushed voices from ahead.

You honestly couldn't give a shit that students are out of bed, but you have to walk past them to get to the common room anyway.

Surprise, surprise. It's the bloody Marauders, as per, and they're huddled together in a shadowy corner, peering over that old piece of parchment they're always passing back and forth to each other when they think no one's looking.

Were it anyone else, you'd probably ignore them, but since you hate each one of these boys more than the next, you stroll by them and lazily drawl, "Fifty points, each," as you pass.

You can't help but smirk to yourself when you hear disgruntled sighs and yells from behind you. Ruining their nights has always made yours a little better.

"Where in bleeding hell did _she_ come from?" Peter.

"Cunt." Sirius.

"That's two hundred points in all, I mean, that's just excessive, really." Remus.

"Evans!" James. "Evans! Hey!"

Wait. Why is his voice so much louder than the others? You glance back over your shoulder and are appalled to see James Potter, pulled away from his precious little mates and chasing after you.

You narrow your eyes at him and quickly speed up. You're in no mood for _him_ tonight.

But he's not the Quidditch Captain for nothing, and he catches up to you in a few long strides.

"Fuck off," you spit at him, refusing to slow your pace toward the Fat Lady's portrait. You can see it – just there – and all you need to do is get to the girls' staircase and then you're home free.

"No thanks," he grits out. He reaches out and you feel his strong, warm hand grasp your elbow.

"Hey!" You try to shake off his grip, to no avail. "Listen, you prick, I know it's hard to find girls willing to shag _this_," here you gesture toward his general area, "but manhandling me into your bed isn't going to work, not tonight, not ever."

"Don't try to be funny," he glares down at you with livid hazel eyes. "You know you're shit at it."

You huff. "Let _go_ of me, Potter."

"You'll just run off."

"Exactly."

James shakes his head. "No, this – no, I need to talk to you. That – back there? All those points? That was ludicrous, and you know it."

Widening your eyes in mock amazement, you sneer, "Ooh, big word there. Lupin been giving you boys some vocabulary lessons?"

"Evans."

"Potter."

"You can't keep doing shit like this just because…well…why do you do these things, anyway? Just because you feel like it?" asks James.

You roll your eyes. "I think you'll find that the Hogwarts rules clearly state that prefects are entitled to dispensing disciplinary action as they see fit when students are out after curfew."

"That's not the point!" he erupts. "I know that. But we both also know that taking _that_ many points for just standing in the corridor after dark is unheard of."

"You want a detention, too?"

"I _want_ you to stop being such a fucking bitch!"

You gasp and wrench your arm out of his grip. "How _dare_ –"

"Moan all you want, but you know it's the truth," interrupts James.

"_You_," you snarl, "are nothing but a sad, pathetic _child_ who desperately wants attention."

"Stop."

"You're a spoiled, pampered brat, and you think you can have anything you like."

"Stop, Evans."

"But really, you're too arrogant to see that the only reason people are kind to you and indulge you is because of who your parents are and what's in your vault at Gringotts. No one actually gives a shit about _you_, Potter, so stop deluding yourself and –"

"That's _enough_." Oh, you've made him really angry now, you can tell by the way his jaw is clenched and his hands have formed into fists.

You widen your eyes innocuously. "Soft spot?" you ask in the most innocent voice you can muster.

"Right, that's it, listen up now, Evans, because I'm only going to say this once." James' eyes gleam in the darkly lit hall, and he advances toward you with a decisive step. "You've been acting like a massive bitch all year. You're vicious, cruel, and act like everyone around you is inferior and insignificant. You've become one of those snobby tossers you used to hate."

"I –"

He holds up a hand. "I'm not finished. You've been a completely different person ever since you stopped hanging around with Snape. I mean, I hate the guy, everyone knows that, but if you miss him this much maybe you should –"

"Severus Snape is dead to me," you interject coldly.

"Well, fine. But you can't go on like this. You use people, you take points whenever you feel like it, you're unnecessarily cruel. You and Marlene walk around like you think you're the fucking queens of Hogwarts." He pauses to take a breath. "I saw Ophelia Bobbin from the year below crying in the common room the other day and you know what she told me?"

You curl your lips into a disinterested sneer.

"That her boyfriend cheated on her with _Lily Evans_, of all people." He sounds almost _disappointed _in you.

Smirking, you reply, "Well, maybe if Ophelia Bobbin weren't such a mousy little prude, her boyfriend wouldn't have slept with me."

"You see?" he shouts. "That's what I mean. Unnecessarily cruel. What'd Fee ever do to you, anyway? She always looked up to you, you know."

You narrow your eyes. "Maybe you and _Fee_ can get together now, since you obviously love her so much."

James blinks. "I don't, but that's not the point. Why are you acting like this? Why have you become so cold, so vicious? You didn't used to be like this. You used to be kind, and warm, and generous. So _please_," he breaks off, his voice ragged, "just tell me _why_."

"I don't have to explain myself to you." You turn away and head for the common room door.

"I think you're scared."

His voice, cutting through the silent corridor, makes you stop in your tracks. For a Gryffindor like you, those are fighting words.

He goes on. "You're scared that if you let your guard down, you'll get hurt again. That if you let anyone in, let anyone past your insults and ice, they'll end up treating you like Snape did."

You stand completely still, gaping at James, and he makes his way toward you, slowly but surely. "I think you're really just a scared and lonely little girl."

Inside, your world is crashing, violent, and your heart is beating furiously out of your chest at the realization that he's really seen you, seen _through_ you. He's staring at you, now, his eyes far too wise for a sixteen-year-old boy. You always thought _he_ was the pathetic, blatantly obvious one, but all along it's actually been _you_.

"I don't understand," you whisper, finally finding the ability to speak. "You're perfect James Potter, Quidditch Captain, star student, golden boy extraordinaire. You don't need to waste your precious time on my problems. Why are you pretending to care about this, about me?"

He almost smiles, then, though the expression on his face is dark. "_My _problem is that I care too much."

You forget how to breathe, then, as you look up at this golden, perfect boy, who stares too long at you during Charms class, who always saves you when McGonagall asks you a question you don't know, who lost a Quidditch match the day he caught you snogging Charlie Cornfoot, who says "You're a bitch" but sounds almost like he's saying "I love you" every time.

"_Evans_," he says, his voice low and hoarse and ragged.

The moonlight is playing with the planes of his face and _fuck_, his _cheekbones_. You never had much use for your mum's God but James' face in the soft light could make you fall to your knees. He's looking at you madly, reverently, worshipfully, his eyes burning into your skin.

And suddenly you feel it written onto your skin, onto your bones, the story of what the two of you could be.

You take a step closer and his eyes light up and your heart leaps into your throat and you open your mouth and –

"Oy, Prongs! Where in sodding hell have you been?"

James whirls around and you see his mates, barreling down the corridor toward you.

Now, here, this moment – this is what counts.

In a split second you decide. Taking advantage of the distraction, you murmur the password to the Fat Lady, slip into the common room, and run until you reach your dormitory, a scared and lonely little girl after all.

And perfect James Potter, golden boy extraordinaire, is right as usual.

..

**A/N**: thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! Please take a moment to leave a review and let me know what you thought. xo


End file.
